This is part of the Mal's Mother Arc. It begins with Mother. This follows Cheap Whore.
This part has no major warnings. Still abusive. Plenty of aftermath. Mal's disoriented throughout and ever flippant about sexual and physical abuse. Many kindnesses!
Master List
I felt like I was getting sick. I woke up completely flustered with an intense ache in the back of my throat. My neck, shoulders, hips, and wrists all burned in the way that no position alleviated it whatsoever. I was covered in sweat, but cold. I’d thrown off my clothes at some point.
It took a moment for up to make sense from down. A headache persisted all around my head, concentrating sadistically in my eyes. The light from the sun hurt so bad that it took multiple tries for me to keep my eyes open.
Oh, no. I had no idea where I was. I stared at a crumbled stone wall and a broken beam from a caved in ceiling. Dust littered the debris, making one piece indiscernible from the next.
I whimpered, feeling small and scared and vulnerable. I curled up against those feelings, wrapping my tail tight around me like I did when I needed the most help.
I didn’t remember where I was supposed to be. That seemed like the most important thing to figure out. That, and where my clothing had ended up. It wasn’t often I ended up butt naked most anywhere. In a place Seb and I were staying, sure, but -
Sebazin. They needed some medicine to stop the flesh from decaying off their body. They weren’t in a good place. That was why I was alone. It was morning. I should have made some gold, so all I needed to do was find that. And my clothes.
I scanned around me. I convinced my body to shift aside to check beneath me. I couldn’t remember the last time my thighs had hurt so much, I couldn’t move. Swallowing brought tears to my eyes. Even Theo hadn’t hurt me this much, and I trusted him to do it. I wouldn’t have allowed …
I didn’t get a choice in how I had sex as a whore. I knew that. Sebazin was the only one that I got to say no to. It was why I loved them.
I had to move. To get back to them.
I shifted to my knees and immediately retched. Dizziness briefly overtook me, temporarily drowning out the searing pain down my throat. I’d thrown up recently, even if I couldn’t remember it. I’d done it enough to have the acid burn through my esophagus.
I moaned miserably, setting my forehead into my hands and bunching up tight on forearms and knees. I used my tail to block out the worst of the light. Gods, what the fuck had I done?
The sun moved impossibly fast as I recovered. It elongated the shadows in time. Which meant that I’d slept most of the day away. I hadn’t woken in the morning. Shit, what the fuck had I done?
When I could crawl about without falling apart, and I accepted that my clothes were nowhere about the dilapidated building, I broadened my search. They had to be somewhere. I couldn’t imagine someone pulling off the same heist on me that I had to earn them in the first place.
I poked my head out of the hole I deemed most likely I’d have used and allowed my eyes to adjust. I’d thought it was bright in the building.
The building opened up to a dank alley. The ground was a collection of puddles. Most of the surrounding walls were protected by haphazard crates decaying into one another. So I’d ended up in a vaguely familiar area. Even if I didn’t recognize it.
No one was around. That didn’t make it safe, but it was a far cry better than someone waiting to catch me.
I slunk into the alley, holding myself in one hand like it was the only kind of modesty I needed. A body was a body, sure, but mine was wrong; it gave people the wrong impression.
Dropping in front of one of the larger puddles, I bent to put my lips to it. My tail tucked tight despite the discomfort. The water tasted terrible, gritting and sun baked, and it went down rough. I coughed at the first few sips, nearly throwing it back up. Drinking got easier, though. It quieted the sharpest of the throbs in my head.
I had never thought I’d got back to this. Of course, when Gabe had first steered us to a big city, I’d automatically returned to my habits. I’d gotten separated from the group and I sought out the comfort forgotten corners lent to me. Seb had been so mad when they’d tracked me down to reunite us. I’d never figured out how they’d found me, but they’d done it personally and alone. It was easier to hide, at first, than it was to trust the group would stop people from hurting me. Except once I belonged to people that cared, no one actually did want to hurt me anymore.
I knew the difference now. I also knew how unsafe I was, exposed like this. Knowing didn’t make that any better for me.
I glanced furtively about me, sure I’d heard a noise warning of someone approaching. When I waited, no one came. It took too long for me to lower my hackles. To accept that I had a little more time alone.
Using the puddle to wash up, I found the typical evidence of a night permanently forgotten. I scrubbed cum off of my stomach, my chest. I had to splash water up my face for it to feel remotely better. Not that a little dirty water could do much. The blood rinsed easily from between my legs. I left what I knew dried beneath my tail. I couldn’t stand to touch myself there. Not yet, at least.
I ventured farther, investigating my immediate surroundings with prejudice. My clothing had to be somewhere. Right?
I crept to the mouth of the forgotten alley when I’d learned the remnants of the creates held nothing. I knew immediately where I was the moment I saw the next side street. It was where I had fucked the rogue for his lock picks. I was outside the tavern where I’d had good luck. Evidently, I’d had some sort of luck there again. Considering my lack of clothes or gold, I didn’t think it was good.
A familiar green caught my eye. My attention snapped to it. Nothing else mattered. My tunic. I darted to it without checking for eyes. I pulled it over my head in haste, squeezing it between blistered fingers. I had something back. It was the most important thing I could have found.
The street offered me nothing else. I remembered my wits and jumped when I noticed a kid gawking at me, but she wasn’t going to hurt me. My other clothes remained a frustrating mystery.
Well, what else was I to do? The tunic covered me. I couldn’t stay hidden forever.
Adopting a brave face, I strode past the dumbfounded child and let myself into the tavern. My feigned confidence left me the moment the owner set eyes on me. Or, kin of the owner, maybe? She looked far too young to be running the place. My age, approximately.
“I told you to be careful, didn’t I?” she asked me by way of greeting.
I bit my lip, hesitating. I had no recollection of her, let alone what she referred to. She had a couple patrons already. Elderly folk. They minded their own business.
“I don’t … get to be careful,” I replied eventually. I stood at the bar, but I couldn’t make myself meet her eyes.
Her fingers fiddled nervously. “You were a lot more confident last night.”
Was I? I was working, then. It explained the required clean up. Not why I’d stayed naked.
Her hand disappeared, returning with a small heap of folded clothing. My clothes? I finally met her gold flecked eyes. “My pa told me to turn these into rags.” Rude. They were perfectly fine clothes yet.
“My boots?” I asked, strangled.
She smiled, pulling those up to the counter beside my clothes. The smile quickly faded. “There was blood on those sheets,” she whispered, too concerned for someone not involved.
I stared at my things. The only things I had left to own. I couldn’t tell if I was allowed to take them or if she was holding them hostage to extort something from me.
“You grew up around here, didn’t you?”
I snarled, snatching my things form her quickly enough to startle her backwards. A hand flew to her chest, but from there, she quickly composed herself. People that knew about me hated me. I made a bad impression for good reasons. I was a whore, a thief, a dirty merc.
I turned hastily, moving far faster than my body wanted to handle. “Wait – miss tiefling!”
I left without a thank-you. No goodbye. She’d done me a kindness, but whatever had happened was over. I’d find a new place to hunt. It didn’t surprise me that I’d burn through them.
To get dressed, I ducked back down the stinking alley, using its forgotten state to my advantage. I felt the weight of the hang from the fabric more heavily than I usually did, the friction between my tail and the hem of my braies nearly unbearable. It didn’t matter, so long as I could pass as someone I wasn’t.
I didn’t have the gold I’d set out to make. I had no memory of how the night had gone after seeing Seb, but I knew my resolve as I left that chamber. I’d made plans then. It made no sense to change them, unless there was a better way. Considering I didn’t possess a better way – or a way to help Seb get better at all – I’d failed. Somehow.
I paid attention to the store fronts as I made my way through the city. I took my time to sound out letters, trying to make sense of all the signs. I couldn’t read most of them. Others, I thought I had a chance, but the word I’d sounded out was nonsense. What little I could read, I didn’t need.
It fostered an intense frustration. I hadn’t believed Gabe when he insisted I needed to learn to read. His lessons were grueling, but I’d tried. If only to please him. And what came of his efforts? I was still hopeless with the written language. Knowing some letters was worthless.
“Can I help you find something?” The words were directed to me. An older halfling man with kind eyes and hairy ears peered up at me. Or maybe he was a really short human. I couldn’t tell. “Are you having trouble reading, son?”
The bitterness rose sharp in vengeance. My nose wrinkled and I almost snapped at him to fuck off.
He beat me to speaking first. “There’s no shame in it. I can’t see much myself.” He chuckled in good humor.
I wasn’t blind. It would have been a better excuse, if I couldn’t see the letters to not read them.
“Maybe I can help you find what you’re searching for. Too much pride for help his a much bigger shame than illiteracy.”
“I’m not proud,” I mumbled. He knew my problem, then. It was weird, with no pity attached.
“Good!” her chirped. “You’re better off than most people that way.”
That, I wholeheartedly doubted.
I stared at my tail around my ankles. There was no harm in telling him of the object of my search. Maybe he’d even understand why I needed it without asking or making a fuss. “I need medicine. Or a healing potion. Magic I can take with me.”
The man’s friendly demeanor remained unwavering. “A healing potion is incredibly potent stuff,” he commented. It felt like more of a warning than an admonishment.
“I know,” I breathed. Expensive, too. What did I think I was doing, tracking it down when my gold had been stolen or never earned? I couldn’t help but feel like Seb’s life depended on it. Now. Or they’d cross a bridge I couldn’t’ get them back over.
The worst part about healing potions was that they seemed to work less the more they were used. Alchemists made stronger ones for those cases, but a basic one was already out of my price range. The potion that Theo had me get for Seb, when Seb had lost control, had barely negated the frostbite damage on their skin. It had done nothing to the self-inflicted cuts or the stab wound straight through the bones of their hand. It took another couple months for Seb to vaguely use that hand again. A year and a half later, it still couldn’t grip.
“An herbalist is down the street, second left right on the corner,” the man explained. “A magic store, that’s going to be in the tourist district.”
“I’m familiar,” I mumbled. If that didn’t describe the exact area I generally avoided growing up. Just on the other side of the slums I knew so well.
“Oh! Then you know the shop?”
“No.”
He gave me instructions, describing what it was that I had to look for to find it. I knew I would be in over my head in a shop like that. I had no reason to step in one since Wyst left. I knew no magic. I couldn’t read. But it was on the way back to my mother’s place and it was useful knowledge to have.
The man fell quiet and I let it stretch. I had all I needed to know. The sun was impossibly low in the sky, considering how long I’d been awake, and only dropping.
“You look like you could use a hug,” the man said softly.
I twisted sharply away, lifting my lip off of my fang. “I’m fine,” I snapped. It didn’t matter how obvious of a lie it was. It didn’t matter if the man thought me prideful for my denial. I had no time to worry about myself and I certainly wasn’t going to let a stranger pity me.
I left him behind, ignoring the disappointment in his expression. He gave me useful information, assuming it was accurate. No longer bothering trying to read, I made a direct path to the herbalist and found it with ease.
The shop wasn’t like Minerva’s. It wasn’t like stepping into a contained forest, complete with petrichor. This shop was tidy and full of tiny vials. A tiny person with big, pointed ears peered around a shelf. No, two tiny and identical people. Were these women gnomes? I’d never met a gnome before. Halfings and dwarves, but most people were human. An occasional elf or half-elf. Seb and my mother were the only other tieflings I’d come across.
“Welcome! Good evening!” one greeted.
“What can we do for you today?” the other asked. They even sounded similar.
I stopped my nose from wrinkling. “My friend needs help.” I turned from them, working on my words. I needed to express the urgency of the matter. “They were stuck in the cold and wet and I think their skin is starting to smell like death from it.” Salty tears burned in the corner of my eyes.
The two gnomes were quiet. I had to bite my lip to keep my composure. “Your friend – do they have a fever?” Oh, thank fuck. They were going to take me seriously.
I shook my head. From what I could tell, Seb was their normal level of warm. Noticeably more than me, but not scorching like when they’d really gotten sick. They’d only felt maybe too warm because the cavern was cool.
From there, they asked a series of questions and I answered honestly. The paused to gather things, to discuss quietly with each other, and then sorted through supplies. I almost felt hopeful. That there was a way through this.
It was short lived, of course. Hope always was.
“That’s going to be sixteen gold,” one of the gnomes said.
The tears that I’d been holding on to spilled free. What had I expected? Free service? I knew better than that. I wouldn’t have done it in their place.
“I don’t have any gold,” I whispered. Stronger: “I tried. I -” Panic seized me. I could not leave the shop without the things Seb needed. I clawed my tunic off my back, stumbling forward and dropping before them. I held it out. Even on my knees, my head was taller than them. “I’ll pay you back. I promise. Please. This is the most important thing I have. Hold it and I’ll bring you the gold. Please. They’re going to die and I can’t -” I choked, running out of coherent words.
One of the women clutched the medicines to her chest. The other held her duplicate? Clone? Sister? “That isn’t worth the -” So much regret in her voice.
“It is to me,” I emphasized. “I’ll make the money tonight. I’ll be back. Please.” I doubled over, releasing my tunic to hold my horns and pull my head in tighter. It didn’t hold in the crying. I was making a fool of myself. I couldn’t help it.
The two discussed. I bawled, my world shrinking to my tears alone. Every sob hurt like the end was near, rending my throat in two. Yet emotions overruled pain. I lived in pain anymore.
A hand touched my shoulder. My awareness jerked back to my immediate vicinity and I slapped the hand away. Back peddled until my back hit a shelf. It wasn’t until I saw the fear in the women’s eyes that I realized that was meant to be comforting to me. Why did people have to touch me?
I gulped in air, ignoring the internal burn. It wasn’t enough to recenter myself.
“How much trouble are you in?” the gnome that hadn’t touched me asked. “We can help you go to the authorities -”
“No!” I scooped my knees to my chest in wild panic. “Please, no. No.” The authorities hurt me most. Even after years of safety from them and everyone else, I couldn’t break my aversion to them. No amount of time or traveling with Wyst had been able to fix my reaction to run from them.
We stared at one another for a while. It wasn’t long enough for me to calm down at all. I was on the edge of fear, of panic, the complete misery of my body the only thing keeping me going. They had my tunic now. I had nothing.
One of the women scooped up the small heap of fabric. She held it up to her mirror, mouthing words she didn’t expect me to understand. I knew the tunic was dirty. It probably stunk. That didn’t change its level of importance to me.
The other woman’s eyes softened, even if she was still on guard. “We’re not a charity,” she told me.
I looked between the two of them. So this wasn’t going to work. I’d made a mess of potential allies. I couldn’t come back. And I’d lost my tunic. There was still nothing I could do for Seb.
“We need our gold or we can’t make more,” she continued.
I got it. I was stupid for going out of order. For fucking it all up. I couldn’t imaging Seb lasting another night. Of course, that’s what I’d thought the entire time.
The woman stepped forward. I flinched, letting go of my legs to run. I didn’t know how a gnome was going to hurt me, but people always found a way. She ground to a halt before lifting up her wares. “It’s okay. Pay us back. We’ll hold on to your tunic.”
I stared at her, disbelieving. I was missing something. This wasn’t how the world worked. What else did they want from me?
The woman holding my tunic nodded. “Go take care of your friend,” she prompted.
I felt my heartbeat too strongly. Pushing up to my knees, I reached out tentatively for the medicines the closer gnome held out for me. She dumped them into my hands. I saw the discomfort and muffled reaction she had at the state of them, but she didn’t say anything.
They were choosing to trust me? I hugged the items close and sniffled. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I promised. And I fled, leaving my tunic behind. I swore it physically wrenched at me.
The hardest part about not having the tunic was the lack of extra layer to hide the jar and vials in the gnomes had sent me off with. My mother wasn’t going to let me near Seb with them if she knew about them. They needed to stay hidden and safe. It took a fair amount of arranging to hide them on my person.
I felt lightheaded by the time I made it to my mother’s shop. A customer perused it, saving me from immediate backlash, but I knew that it wouldn’t last. The fury in her eyes was evident. Her physical impedance to my escape into the living area was proof her abuse only laid in wait.
The moment the door closed behind the patron, magic scored me between the ears. I tumbled to my knees. “Where have you been all day?”
I blinked up at her, woozy with pain. I couldn’t comprehend the question, let alone answer it.
“You miss Bertram’s deadline, Malxir!” I winced at the next flick of her hand, but it wasn’t magic. “You have no other purpose! What! Were! You! Doing!” She punctuated the end of her sentence with the attack I had expected earlier.
I didn’t know where I was for a minute. A sharp rap on my cheek tried to direct me from darkness, but I lost sense of direction. My eyelids were so heavy. They helped contain the force of my eyeballs from exploding outward.
“Seb?” I rasped. Seb pulled me out of danger. That’s where I was.
“Rot with him down there for all I care.” I recognized the voice. Recoiled. I was too weak to get anywhere.
My body slid across the floor. My arm – I was being led by my arm. I was so confused. Couldn’t open my eyes.
The sound of a lock and door hinges followed my ride on the horizontal. I didn’t like that noise. I rolled, only to get pushed in the opposite direction. Suddenly, there was no floor beneath me.
I had never thought I’d got back to [squatting and drinking puddles]. Of course, when Gabe had first steered us to a big city, I’d automatically returned to my habits. I’d gotten separated from the group and I sought out the comfort forgotten corners lent to me. Seb had been so mad when they’d tracked me down to reunite us. I’d never figured out how they’d found me, but they’d done it personally and alone. It was easier to hide, at first, than it was to trust the group would stop people from hurting me. Except once I belonged to people that cared, no one actually did want to hurt me anymore.
Mal is a fucking feral ass creature and I honestly enjoy regressing its progress.
This is part of the Mal's Mother Arc, beginning with Mother and following Freedom.
Explicit sexual warning. Noncon/assault, drugged/under the influence, forced deepthroat, gangbang. Mal's bids of prostitution is the tamest part of this bit. Mal is also a bit of an overall idiot.
Master List
I was going to need money. Whatever it was that Seb was going to need, I wasn’t going to be able to barter sex for it. I needed to make the gold at night, keep it safe in the hole I found to sleep in, and then use it like a civilized person in the morning. That was why I stole. It was less dangerous.
Seb’s life was worth the risk.
I found myself in the same tavern as the night before, a touch dizzy with hunger. The group of mercenaries I’d flirted with were gone, as was the man that had followed me incessantly for my services. It was almost a shame. Either option could have been easy gold.
It was time to work. I cruised, flirting and touching as I found a mark willing to let me settle by his side. Pouches of travelers’ gold swinging unattended off hips enticed me. Made my fingers itch. I could make gold without selling myself.
My hands ached. I lacked the dexterity. The last thing that I needed was to fail and fall to a rightfully earned beating. The sex wasn’t so bad comparatively.
A drunkard ended up mostly offering himself as bait. He grabbed on to my arm as I passed, tugging me closer the moment I turned to him in surprise. “Hey, whore,” he implored. I couldn’t help my brows quirking up at his confident forwardness. I didn’t think I screamed whore just by looking at me. “Bring us a round from the bar keep, yeah?” He pitched toward me to snag my hand. “Get something for yourself, too.” He pressed a cool coin into my palm.
“I don’t work here,” I said. I kept my hand open, in case he wanted his coin back. I wasn’t used to this level of forwardness. How did he know that I was a whore? I didn’t think real whores picked up people this way. I was under the impression that most clientele found the whore, not the other way around.
I supposed, he did find me.
“Who are you looking for, then?” He kept the coin at my skin.
I smiled, forcing my body to relax. My fingers closed over the coin. “What will you be having tonight?”
“A gentleman doesn’t discuss his private affairs in public.”
I leaned in, taking my hand from his to steady myself on his shoulder. “A drink doesn’t cover my fee, sir.”
“Are you trying to rush things here?” he murmured back. He gave my ass a squeeze before gesturing to his buddies around the table. They were quiet. I flicked a critical eye over each one. They were a group of road toughened humans. All men. I couldn’t tell if they were mercenaries or something else that required muscle and resulted in the need for a little help relaxing. They made my skin crawl when our eyes met, but it wasn’t like that was anything new to me.
“Of course not,” I said soothingly. It was better to ignore his companions. All I had to worry about was making him happy. Which started off as drinks for the whole table. Sure. Why not? “The drinks, sir?”
The man smiled, something smooth and slimy. “The bar keep should know.”
I could never actually work in a tavern. Every person that had ever handed out drinks always seemed to have some sort of psychic ability or improbably memory. My jobs had been simple. Under Seb, kill things. Beside Wyst, follow her lead. For my mother, sleep with strangers. None of it required real thought.
I nodded my acknowledgment to the man and left with his coin in my hand. The bar keep waited for me by the time I made it her way.
“That’s a rough bunch you found yourself with,” she warned me. “Thick as thieves, if you know what I mean.”
I pressed my lips, slapping the coin on the counter. “Do they pay well?”
I couldn’t decipher the look that passed her honey eyes. Her plump cheeks gathered and dimpled. “We don’t mind you here, hun, but you need to promise to keep the peace, okay? Keep your wits about you.”
“Does that mean you’re not serving me?” I asked flatly. I never ordered my own drink. People always saw me too young.
“What are you having, hun?”
“Whiskey?” I asked a little too hopefully.
The bar keep gave no indication of her opinion over that choice. She turned to gather that and the drinks of the table, scooting them and change over to me. I hadn’t time to gather everything before she disregarded me as fast as she’d served me. Well, it was less overall judgment than I was used to.
The nerves in my hands screamed at me by the time I juggled it all though the patrons and tables. The man scooped me onto his leg the moment the threat of me spilling as gone. I huffed, but adjust accordingly.
I sipped my whiskey, relishing the comforting burn I hadn’t had in so long. Unlike Seb, I hadn’t given up alcohol willingly. It was simply enjoyed best in the company of others. I couldn’t imagine drinking alone would be any good.
Not that the present company offered much. I tuned out of their conversation quickly, too far removed from its import to feign interest. I played with the night’s suitor instead.
His clothes were thick, heavy enough to endure a tough job without incurring excess wear. I fondled his neck, his ear, the back of his head. The little skin I could reach, no matter the hair in my way. His beard was trim and tidy, the hair on top of his head shorter than mine. I loved running my fingers through hair, even when the blisters made his soft chestnut mop almost unbearable to the touch.
I scooted closer when I began to feel the whiskey. It didn’t take long, its warmth pooling in my belly within the first sip. My hands ran over his chest and back. I wrapped my tail loosely over his leg. I wasn’t even close to his focus. Not even when my touch ventured lower.
One of his friends got up for another round, surprise me with a second whiskey. I blinked at it, taking it with an air of confusion. This one, I didn’t nurse. I tipped it back and let it go straight to my head.
I wasn’t used to chatter before play. It wasn’t fun. Not that acting as a sex toy was ever much fun, either. Only if it was for Seb. The rate the alcohol fuzzed my mind, I was going to fall asleep before he paid attention to me and I earned his coin.
I lost my environmental awareness. I realized it one second to a jolt of fear and forgot about it again when my lapse of focus on my balance tipped me. I leaned into the man, letting him keep track of that for me.
When I tried to keep tabs on his friends, the rate at which I looked between them and the speed and which I could focus was completely discombobulating.
The whiskey wasn’t sitting right. It rolled in my stomach. It burned through my blood. I was too drunk. Past the point of feeling good. I should have felt two shots, sure, but they shouldn’t have had me drunker than I’d ever been before. I couldn’t work like this.
I buried my face into the side of his beard and gripped on to his torso and leg like my life depended on it. I didn’t see him, but felt his hand scoop between my legs, earning him a handful of balls. He didn’t make it hurt, though he hesitated forever. My breath stuck. A lack of oxygen threatened what little I could see around his face with black.
“I think we’re all ready to retire for the night.” I felt his voice through his neck. He let go of my junk to arrange his arms around me, hauling me up. He knew I was next to worthless to him like this. He knew what I was. I only hoped he dumped me outside.
I tried to walk beside him, but he took all my weight. I stared down the door, seeing nothing else, but he spun me away from it. “Sssir?” Had my mouth even made noise?
“You’ve been lying to me, haven’t you, little lady?” he whispered in my ear. His grip felt bruising, but it didn’t hurt. “But you’re not really a little lady, are you?” Well, he wasn’t a gentleman, either.
A sob bubbled out of me, riding on the fear that had me so tight. No one had found out what I was like this. “Mm not-not a … man.”
“No man would degrade himself like you,” the man sneered. He had no problem leading me through the tavern. Up the stairs. I stumbled, my feet reacting too slow to keep underneath me. He held me upright, claiming my body in his merciless grip.
“Please, no,” I whimpered. I was beyond working. There was no point in dragging me upstairs. Away from the safety of my slums.
I was going to throw up. I pitched against his hold, my vision tumbling briefly into darkness. My diaphragm heaved, bring with it a taste of acrid bile.
His hand clamped over my jaw, wrenching my face up. “Hold your fucking liquor, whore,” he snapped.
Sweat prickled over my skin, and with it, a chill down my tail. I swallowed incessantly at the spit in my mouth. I could taste the whiskey, under the acid. I could handle two shots, damn it. This was pathetic.
He shoved me into a room, letting me fall when my balance was caught unprepared. I hit knees first before rolling to my side. A moment later, a bucket smacked me upside the head. I immediately curled around it, letting my stomach empty. I hadn’t had anything to expunge. Even the shots accounted for next to nothing.
“What the fuck did you do to her, John?” One of the men’s companions followed us into the room. I didn’t care. I hugged the bucket, spitting extra saliva and shivering.
“Wasn’t me,” the man I’d been trying to butter up replied. “It’s no lady whore. Still owes us for our generosity -” The rest of his words were lost the moment I finished putting together what was happening.
I shoved the bucket out of my way, throwing my limbs beneath me to try and get away. I had no peripheral. Anytime I changed the focal point of my escape, it took seconds to reorient. A heavy foot between my shoulders swiftly pinned me to the ground, sweeping whatever purchase my limbs may have had away.
“You shouldn’t play pretend, little whore,” John taunted.
“Let me go,” I sobbed. I didn’t have the breath to support my plea. I wasn’t playing pretend. Or a game. I needed the gold from the work and I liked when I got away with passing as a woman. It was more truth than fiction. Seb and Gabe had let me think it was okay.
Two sets of hands grabbed me around the arms, hauling me backwards to a bed. I heard voices, even if I couldn’t parse the words. I thrashed until a sharp sting over the cheek gave me pause. How much would these men hurt me to get their way?
I lost track of the hands touching me. They stripped me, pulling me against the way my body bent to serve their goal. The room was too bright. It hurt my head, made it harder for me to keep up with who was where.
It wasn’t … two men, either. All four had crammed around me in various states of undress. The man whose lap I’d borrowed knelt over my head, his cock already hard in his hand. I stared up its thick veining along the bottom of his shaft. Watched at the steady flesh of his light tip from every stroke. A malicious grin materialized behind it.
“You’re not a biter, are you?” John asked. “I’m going to have to kill a confused slut like you if you bite me.”
I whimpered, jerking my head away. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be in Seb’s warm embrace.
His hand found the back of my neck, positioning me. Opening my throat. My panic didn’t matter to him. More hands pried open my jaw, pushing my tongue where he thought it belonged.
My body didn’t respond to my struggles, whether that was from the alcohol, something else, or simply the strength of four hard men around me, I didn’t know.
The head of his cock pushed down my tongue. He wasn’t hesitant or testy at all. He moved slow enough to keep from completely overwhelming me, but that was all the considering that I got. He hit the back of my throat and my own body betrayed me. After expunging the nothing, with the alcohol dulling everything, the hands holding me in place, I accepted him without contest. He pushed deep, the soft skin of his balls resting on my nose. The lack of air wasn’t new or worth panicking about. The intrusion inside me was usually welcomed.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered in surprise.
I didn’t feel right. Something was wrong. I was fuzzy. Everything was distant.
I twisted my face, pulling his dick sharply from my airway. I didn’t want this this time.
Hands put me back in position. He pushed in again, hard in my throat and too deep from that angle. I bucked up into pressure. My throat wouldn’t work with me.
“He’s done this before,” John remarked.
I choked on him as fear finally took root where it belonged. I couldn’t go this long without breathing. I was going to die like this. At least Seb wouldn’t know what had happened. Not before they were gone, too.
John took delight in pushing as far down my throat as he could, giving me air every time I lost track of my body to panic. His hands became the only ones that held my neck. Put my face back after I spat up the spit and bile built up to remove him. His cock pacified me the first moment one of his buddies stuck his dick up my ass. I writhed weakly at the splitting pain. It didn’t take much for him to bat my limbs aside. My scream only got lost as a gag when the air had nowhere to go around the meat in my mouth.
The man fucked hard. His toes crossed over my tail, the top of his foot digging in hard to stay deep and fast. I had no control over my own body, my every attempt to curl up or roll away thwarted by someone stronger than me.
I lost track of where John went. Cocks poked at my tongue and I opened wider without thought. I stopped trying to lift my tail between my legs any time there was vacancy. I was a good whore. This was what I was meant to do.
I barely flinched when the first lines of cum splattered over my face. I faintly heard his soft groans as he released. His load was thick, tickling as it dropped down my cheek.
It wasn’t the end. Merely an intermission. Another dick replaced his in my mouth and I let him use me.
The second man left hot trails up my stomach. Fingers chased the majority of it around my belly in an absent-minded kind of way. He, too, was replaced with another man.
There was no end. I swam in exhaustion, all of my efforts centered on keeping myself awake. I forgot things. The feeling across my body was muted. At some point, and I didn’t know when, it became nothing.
This is part ten of the Mal's Mother Arc, following Tools. The arc begins with Mother.
Physical abuse through coercion. Implied sexual abuse. Mal's compounding mementos of it all, though Mal's pretty chill about taking abuse. And ... I think this qualifies as body horror. My new favorite hobby this year is killing Sebazin. (The first time was in Loviatan Temple, a year and a half previous to this chapter. I'm not usually a cheat death kind of person like that, but it was specifically a torture tailor made for Seb, so.)
I'm finally getting excited about where I'm at in this. This and the Theo Affair arc both took longer than I expected once I started writing them out. Unlike the Mila arc, these had beginnings, middles, and ends before I started writing them. This arc is everything I like to see in stories, okay? I begin notebook #7 tomorrow at work.
Master List
My mother’s door was locked, which didn’t surprise me. By the time I cleaned myself up and found her place, even most of the late night crawlers had made their way back home. The problem with her door being locked was that it was from the inside, not one of those two-way locks like Seb and I had on our door where we’d stayed for a year. I didn’t have access to the mechanism to unlock it.
Knocking wasn’t going to help anybody. My mother wouldn’t waste her time letting me in and it wasn’t going to get me to Seb under her irritable scrutiny. My safer option was to find a place to sleep until she unlocked her shop and – I was going to have to wait to see Sebazin.
I back tracked to an area I knew. A bad area. My presence attracted eyes. But it was familiar and dark and comforting. It served me well enough to let me sleep.
I slept well until sunlight and hands patting my body woke me up. I reeled away, immediately alert, and locked eyes with a child so dirty, I couldn’t tell its shape. It got over its shock first, scampering to leave.
“Wait!” The child paused. My fingers sought out my lock picks, finding them where I left them. “Are you hungry?”
Eager eyes fixed on to me. It crawled back until it remained just out of reach.
“If you wait here for me, I’ll bring us back something to eat,” I promised. I didn’t have time for this. It was something Gabe had done for me. More importantly, it was something Seb would do. Seb always found something to give to a child that had the bravery to approach them. I’d always let them share so that I didn’t have to.
The child sat by way of answer, outside of my path to the hole in the wall. I slipped past it into the morning light.
Procuring a breakfast for the two of us wasn’t difficult, even with a smaller crowd for distractions. I stuck to foods Theo had preferred to bring back for me; they felt better on an empty stomach. I often grabbed those kinds of things since my time with him. They were good.
I half expected the dirty kid to be gone when I returned, but it waited. Its eyes, the only clear thing about it, stared at me with distrust until I showed it the food I’d stolen, set it down, and backed up. The child fell on it like a ravenous dog.
I’d been like that once. Not that long ago. No matter how bad my current situation was, at least I had something to lose.
I left the hide after I’d finished my small share of food, picking up the courage to return to my mother.
“Are you capable of doing anything on time?” my mother sneered at the sight of me.
I winced and shrunk, my shoulders pulling in to make myself smaller. “I got back last night, but your door was locked.”
“That’s what you do with doors at night. To keep thieves out.” Her words felt like needles at my skin. I was a thief. She made me into one out of pure necessity to survive.
Her attention slid sideways. I’d escaped more of her mind attacks, even though I was still doing things wrong. I would always do things wrong. “Clean up the floor today,” she ordered. “You left stains. Might as well do it all while you’re at it.”
I swallowed. “Do – can I – um. Water?” I didn’t know how to phrase the question without her taking personal offense, so I managed the stupidest way possible.
She raised her lip at me, even if she didn’t fix me with a direct stare. “You’ll have to fetch that yourself. Are you capable?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. Never mind her derogatory assumption. “Thank you.”
My mother sharply lifted her head before I had the chance to take a step. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Where did you learn that from?”
How was I supposed to answer that one? The man that stole me by manipulation with intentions of keeping me as a sexual pet? I froze as I searched for an appropriate answer. “Sebazin,” I lied instead.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she grumbled. “You’d better be using those manners with Bertram and Lowdie.” She narrowed her eyes tighter in threat. “I’ll know if you don’t. Lowdie deserves better from you, Malxir.”
I didn’t know how to I spoke when I went to the other place. I didn’t know if I did at all. I had no idea what was going on with Lowdie. I remembered none of it.
“Better start soon,” she prompted. “The longer the stain sets, the harder it is to get out.”
Blood didn’t come out of wood anyway. If it was from me, from my bleeding nose, it was days old. This was an impossible task. Knowing that didn’t exempt me from the effort of failing.
I moved past her quickly to fetch the bucket from the living space. I took it outside, returning to the well I’d recently cleaned up at. I had my bucket of water and made to leave before a shout stopped me.
“Hey! You’re the one that stole the bread!”
I made the mistake of making eye contact. My biggest problem had always been how recognizable I was. I couldn’t attach my reputation to my mother, either, or she’d make it twice my problem.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, breaking the vendor’s cross glare to look about. There was no mistake that I was her target. She approached with fury.
“You owe me money!” the woman fumed.
I backed up a step for every one she made, covering far less ground. “I have no money. I have no money! I’m sorry!” I couldn’t run with a bucket full of water.
She could almost reach me. “Then you’ll pay other ways. For all the grief you’ve caused this market for fifteen years.”
Panic filled me. “No, no – I can’t!” I dropped the bucket and fled. Back to my familiar footholds, shooting myself through tight streets and up a wall to rooftops. I didn’t stop until I reached an old roof that barely supported me. I curled up against the remainder of the chimney, too empty to cry for myself. My struggling breaths were punishment enough.
Why did people have to remember me when I had been gone for five years? I had never wanted to be here. I’d only been trying to survive. Everyone made it difficult. Harder than it already was.
These people were going to end up killing Sebazin.
I got my breathing back and slunk back along the rooftops to the wall. The vendor lady was gone. My mother’s bucket remained in the center of a large, damp circle. I had to fetch it and refill it without getting caught.
Like stealing, hiding was easier in a crowd. It wasn’t like more tieflings had moved to the area to allow me to blend in since I had left. My mother and I remained the only ones. Well, and Seb. More bodies simply gave me more places to hide in plain sight.
I watched all around me, on edge, as I pulled water. Making it out the square beside other patrons was easier. I used their gait and whim to my advantage. Proper clothing made blending in possible.
I set the bucket on the floor beside my mother’s counter, avoiding her eyes.
“Does everything you do need to take so long?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. No, no it shouldn’t take me as long as it did. Each new thing brought a different problem. Not to mention the compounding aches. The shackles Bertram used left marks in my skin. Bottoming with no prep made my ass fire. Sleeping outside on nothing but the hard ground left contact bruises. I was so tired.
I took a brush from my mother’s living area, stripped down to my under clothes, dropped to my hands and knees, and began to scrub. I eyed the padlock over the trap door, losing track of time as the bristles teased at the wood, begging for the grain to relinquish its stain. The water bubbled a faint pink, but the mark remained.
I continued, losing my thoughts to the chore. I heeded not my body and joints when they screamed. It wasn’t my place to decide when I was finished. I had the whole floor to scrub, after all. None of it was the good until the water came back colorless. And then, after that, my mother would tell me when it was enough.
I scrubbed the day away. I scrubbed the fresh blood of blisters formed and agitated to bursting. It wasn’t clean. My mother needed it done better. Better than I could ever do for her.
“Malxir, that’s enough.”
I stopped. My hands remained on the brush. My back wouldn’t straighten out.
“Clean up your bucket and get dressed. You have some time to take care of your prisoner before it’s time to meet Bertram.”
Sebazin. The two of us were going to be free. I would never see Bertram again.
My entire body screamed. I couldn’t scream along with if I wanted my head intact. Letting go of the brush was excruciating. Parts of my skin stuck to it through the blisters. My knuckles refused to bend. Looking up brought tears of pain to my eyes.
Evening sun met my gaze. The shock of passing time punched me in the chest all at once. I’d started early morning.
It took far, far too long to straighten up. It would have eaten into the time I had with Seb if we weren’t getting away. Of course we would.
I nearly spilled the scant remainder of the bucket inside when my fingers wouldn’t close over the handle. The pressure was agonizing through the pruning from a day of wet hands. I forced myself to close my hand away, biting back the whimpers so that my mother didn’t hear.
The cleanest the bucket was getting was throwing out whatever followed the water to the street outside. I couldn’t swirl the sediment to dislodge it. I didn’t care about the dirty rings of build up along the side. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t seeing my mother again.
I barely paid attention to where I deposited the bucket and brush, nearly blind the world in the overwhelming need to get to Seb. I had no recollection of slipping past my mother or sliding down the ladder. The next thing I knew, I fumbled for the lock picks at Seb’s barred door.
They slept. It had to be sleep. Their tail draped loosely over their lap. The chains held up their body through their arms. The only reason I couldn’t see breath was for the way the gambeson settled over their chest. I’d already thought them dead too many times for it to be true, when I could finally get them out.
Excitement, frustration, and lack of proper articulation in my fingers made the lock difficult. I ended up with my horns resting between the bars, teeth on my tongue, and my eyes closed before I managed to pop it. It was never a question about if I could.
The tools disappeared from my fingers and the door admitted me without me moving it. The only thing I did next was crash into Seb, climbing over them and cradling their head into my chest. My lips somehow pressed to theirs in a wrenching desperation. They hadn’t reacted to any of it. The only movement was from me.
“Seb. Sebazin,” I cried. They felt warm in my hands. Too warm? Corpses weren’t warm. “We’re going to leave now. Wake up.”
Breath hissed faintly through their lips. I brought my forehead to theirs, petting my fingers over their cheeks. I wasn’t sure how to wake them. I didn’t think they were that heavy of a sleeper.
“Wake up,” I begged.
Closer to them, on top of them, they stank. I never minded the musk of their sweat, happy to let them envelope me even at the height of it. This scent wasn’t that. It was more sinister. It was worse than sick. It wasn’t mold or rot or dampness. I didn’t know what it was.
I patted their cheek, aiming for small, sharp taps on the skin over their teeth. They hadn’t really known I was there the day before, but they had been active. Their incoherent words had no end.
“Please?”
Seb’s head slumped the moment I let go.
I wasn’t getting them out without their help. I twisted to stare at the door. How often did anyone else visit Seb? Did my mother come in to check on their state, to ensure they still lived, when I was elsewhere? Did Bertram come to see the person trapped in the cavern he had more to do with than my mother? Could I set Seb free and hope they found their way out while Lowdie used my body in terrible ways? Freeing Seb was a bad idea.
“I’ll get you some water,” I promised. I felt the thrill of escape drop out of me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be the end. We’d get back to the road, heal, and find Skrit to marry us. Marriage was such a stupid thing for us to want.
I rolled off of them, biting my cheek to keep from crying. What was the point of this? Why did we have to suffer? Why couldn’t the two of us just be happy with each other without others getting in our way? I fucking deserved that, damn it. I deserved the space Seb made for me to make into my own.
I snatched the cup from off the floor as I let my anger consume me. No, it wasn’t my anger. I didn’t get angry. I was borrowing Seb’s. Seb had anger for the lack of peace. For the meddling at the perceived ownership. They were angry for how unbalanced it all was. I’d carry it until they were strong enough to take it back.
I crept into the place that I was to meet Bertram, in case he’d already showed to take me from Seb. I didn’t expect him, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. I kept my step soft and careful until I reached the spring. It took a minute to fill the cup, and I couldn’t do it well considering the angle. Something was better than nothing. I rushed it back to Seb.
They needed water and I didn’t trust their ability to drink it for themselves. How did I get it down their stomach without drowning them? Hydration was a now or never instance. I wasn’t going to lose them to something so stupid after we’d spent so long winning their battle against their god.
I pressed into Seb’s side and lifted their head with one hand. It took me a moment to figure out a good angle and how to open their mouth. My hand shook when I held up the cup to pour enough water to wet their tongue over their lip.
Seb startled me with movement, weak as it was. They slipped their head from my grasp, lolling back into their bicep over their head.
“Seb, it’s me,” I said softly.
Their eyes blinked, rolling. A breath left them in panic, their body failing to jerk away from me. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition in their face.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. I had to work to get the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m going to get you out, Seb.”
They acted like they were coming out of one of their nightmares, in one of the rare cases their jolting panic woke me, too. I had the chance to soothe them out of this one, no fear of them accidentally striking me before they gained their bearings. I pet my hand over their chest, following a similar pattern Seb used when we cuddled.
Seb’s panic subsided. Eventually. They had a couple deep, shaky inhales that took the tension out of their muscles. The distrust in their eyes, staring at me as I did my best to finally be there for them – that didn’t go away.
I plucked the cup from where I’d left it, holding it up for Seb to see. I wanted to stay tight against them, but I couldn’t have everything I wanted. Not yet. I’d have them for the rest of our lives as soon as we were out. “You need to drink this,” I said. I’d get the cupful of water in them and set them free.
Seb continued staring holes into me, their lip lifting. A threat?
“It’s water,” I said. It was hard not to take their complete lack of familiarity personally. “When is the last time you had any to drink?”
Seb’s attention listed to the side, their laser focus dwindling. Maybe they couldn’t answer anymore.
I took a chance in pushing them off the edge. I reached to their jaw to guide their face back to me, tilting their head back. “Open,” I ordered softly. Seb’s hand twisted in the shackles, a nervous exhale from their nose. But they did as I asked, even with fear and mistrust across their face.
I held the cup up to their lips for them to clumsily drink. They chased after it when I was too slow to tilt, their entire focus on getting the water down their throat. They whimpered when they’d gotten through it all. When their eyes returned to me, they were bunched in emotion.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. I began to get up, to find the lock picks from wherever I’d left them, but paused from a racking sound from Seb. I threw them a quizzical look to realize it had been from crying. At least, the closest approximation Seb could cry, in their state.
“Mal,” they whispered faintly, fully giving in to the emotion. It was terrible, free of tears for lack of moisture. Seb was completely at the mercy of their fraught state, no strength left to put on a brave face.
I caved to their primal release, burying my face into their neck and holding on tight. I curled into the warmth. The softness of their gambeson.
“I can’t leave,” Seb told me when their body’s excuse for sobs relinquished their ribs.
“Why not?” I demanded into their skin.
“I can’t. I’m going to die here.”
I jerked back to glare at them. They stared off at the dark nothing, focusing intently on it. The fear was back. The words out of them were sensical, but I still worried they were fully sane. I had the tools to get them out.
It would be better to show them. I launched across the floor in search of the pick and tensioner I’d used. I ran my fingers over the stone, through the strewn straw, and chased them down. I had one ankle free before Seb made another sound. It wasn’t a sound of hope.
My attention shot to their face, seeing a full mask of pain. Pain Seb didn’t bother to hide. Fear was one thing. As rare as it was to see fear in Seb’s eyes, they simply didn’t show pain. A flash here or there, but they always tucked it away. Always.
“Seb?” My voice was too small and scared. I stopped halfway through unlocking their other ankle, all of Seb’s emotions piercing me through. They were miserable enough that the fear and pain took over, pulling them into defeat.
I turned back to the lock, starting all over again. It was a simple lock, though, and hardly a challenge even with the state of my fingers. It only took a couple seconds to release. I didn’t miss the angry, raw skin underneath. I ignored it. We’d have time to dress their wounds when we were free.
I climbed over them, holding their chest between my legs to reach at the bindings on their wrists.
“Mal,” Seb whispered. I paused to meet their eye. “Quit.”
“What?” I reached again, electing to ignore them.
“Quit,” Seb insisted weakly. “That’s all that’s holding me up.” The effort each word took reminded me of the day they’d died, talking to the very moment they couldn’t. The words were slurred, halting, and so hard for them to form.
I leaned back, staring at them with swimming vision. “It’s okay. We’re leaving.”
Seb moaned lightly, resting their head on their arm. “I can’t.”
“Why not, Seb?” I demanded.
Seb took their time in replying. Their mouth worked with no noise, no meaningful shapes crossing their lips for me to read. “Take off my bottoms.” Their next breaths came heavy. Their following words buffered. “Please. Mal.”
They were joking. Undressing was a priority to them? The question of their sanity had a clear answer.
I began to articulate argument. Something something, if I could, despite my desperation to get us out. The words died in my throat when the strangled sobs left Seb again. It was so wrong to see them cry for this.
Doubt filled me. What could be so terrible to break Seb down like this? So much so that they didn’t want to escape.
I eyed the shackles supporting Seb’s weight, but backed off. I slipped off their lap and lost my tools in the shuffle again. My feeling was temporarily shot. That had to be Seb’s problem, too. Something had to make them act weird.
Silent, I did as Seb asked. Untying the knots of their clothing proved much more difficult than applying the tension on my picks, but I managed. I dragged their chausses off with effort. The braies, under their weight, proved next to impossible. It took me helping them lifting up each leg and pushing them with my whole body to get them to shift. They hardly did a thing.
The urgency of their request was soon clear. Seb cried quietly in the removal, immediately hiding in hot shame before I could figure out why. They hid their face with their arm, between their legs with their tail.
Concern gnawed at me further when I noticed the linen was no longer white. I couldn’t tell what they were with my dark vision, but it didn’t take a genius to put the dots together. Seb had been subject to their own filth. For the entire time they’d been my mother’s prisoner. The rotting scent – that was Seb’s.
“Oh, gods,” I breathed with horror.
Their arms and legs had been bound the whole time. They were trapped in the dark, alone, with next to no food or water. They were festering from my mother’s neglect. It was one thing for my mother to punish me when I’d failed her like I always did, but how could she do this to Seb?
I dropped their clothes and fished around them in the straw for my tools again. Seb’s breaths were erratic. The best they could do to break down. They had no acknowledgment for my presence when I found both tools and set to release their arms.
I paused, suddenly hesitant. “Sebazin, it’s okay,” I said gently. There was no indication they’d heard me. “It’s not your fault,” I tried to assure them. I didn’t think Seb had known embarrassment. What were they supposed to do? Hold their bladder and bowels for two weeks?
I transferred my tools to one hand, petting Seb with the other. They flinched lightly at the touch, but it wasn’t like the kind when they knew I was there.
“Seb?” I asked, too distraught to keep the worry from my voice. I couldn’t tell if they knew that I was there anymore.
We weren’t getting out. Seb was too weak. They were insane. The brief moments of clarity weren’t enough to make it to our freedom. I’d gotten them out of the Loviatan temple in a weakened and low function state before, but at least they could move their body and respond to me logically. These shut downs were too hard to reliable do anything.
I had to leave Seb. I had to continue my mother’s evil game. Somehow, I also had to make Seb better.
I left their hands shackled. Seb seemed to want to stay upright. And if they did find the strength, I didn’t want them to use it to hurt themselves more. I knew they would. Especially with their mind twisting on them, the first thing Seb would turn to would be self harm the moment they had the ability. Given how bad it was, I feared it would finally be the time that killed them.
I pulled their chausses up their feet and calves for warmth. The braies I discarded in the corner. Dignity wasn’t our luxury. I left the shackles from their ankles under the straw.
Ensuring my lock picks remained with me, I locked the cell door. The clang of its closing snapped something inside me. I’d been so close. There was no hope left. I was no better than my mother, leaving Seb in a cell. My life, locked away. And now – now I knew how bad it was. How badly Seb needed more than I could do.
Hiding the lock picks away the best that I could with tears in my eyes, I left my lover. Bertram undoubtedly waited for me and I had no choice.
Like a ten minute sketch here. Gonna need to call in reinforcements on this one (mirror i've had in my garage for a couple years now out of pure laziness or many very lucky camera takes), but it's the idea that counts until then. *If* it ever makes it past the sketch phase. Which would be great, because this would be one of those "stretch the boundaries of safe" for me. Just - comfort level of what I've done as an artist. Not the - *gestures*. Haven't done much of that pushing my limits stuff since high school. Lighting and shading, pssh, sure. That's easy. Emotion and stale and fresh blood and tears - all things I've wimped out on. If all goes well, this should have it all.
